Bus Number 13
by Hartman
Summary: We follow Alan Cohen, a bus driver who is trying to survive the events of Dawn of The Dead . BEING RE-WRITTEN. Enjoy!
1. Routines

**Bus Number 13**

Disclaimer: I do not own Dawn of the dead nor AC/DC. The characters and their story belong to the author, me.

**A/N: This is an old story of mine which hasn't been updated in**** a few years. I'll try to improve it the little I can and see if I can 'ignite the flame' again, if you know what I mean**.

Chapter 1: Routine

¨… Oh Clark! How could you do this to me! I thought you… We interrupt this program to bring you a special news bulletin …¨

The television died by the hands of Alan Cohen. ¨Goddamn early morning soap operas…¨ He muttered. After his long night of drinking, last thing he needed was to wake up to hear Sally and Clark arguing about Clark cheating on Sally with Eric. He rose up from his bed and sat there for a while, rubbed his unshaven jaw and cursed the sour taste in his mouth. The digital numbers on his alarm clock read 08.03.

Alan was a man in his late 30's; A man with an ex-wife and two daughters, which he hadn't seen in a while. Despite that, he and his daughters were pretty close, giving each other a phone call every now and then. The same couldn't be said about his wife. His former family had moved out from Cleveland to New York, following his ex-wife's new husband, leaving Alan alone in the suburbs where they had lived for many happy years. The only thing that made Alan happy was his profession. He was a bus driver. Not the most glorious job you can have, yet he loved every minute of it. He had been working as a bus driver since the tender age of 22. Years and a "sitting-job" had taken it's toll on Alan's once well-toned body and his black curly hair was now more of a gray shade.. He was getting older and he had grown to accept it. The every day routines kept him sane, doing double-shifts since he didn't have better things to do. He didn't complain though, it brought bread to his table and he enjoyed driving in general.

Alan rose from his bed and marched to the shower. After a quick shower and a shave he put on his outfit. He cleaned his nametag and attached it to his chest, combed his hair and added a bit of Hugo Boss to the mix. You couldn't tell that he had been drinking the whole Sunday. After grabbing his keys and continuing his way to the garage, he noticed that clock was already half-past eight. He was late from his work, so he didn't have any time to prepare any breakfast. He walked to his garage and entered his car… a black '67 Ford Mustang. The car meant a lot to him, a childhood dream made true. He fought long and hard against his ex-wife's lawyers to keep it, managing to keep it in exchange of paintings and a door mat. A perfect trade. He sat down in the driver's seat and smelled the leather interior of the car. He smiled. The one last thing missing was the music. He put a cassette in the player and the next thing he knew, the voice of Brian Johnson impaled his brain.

¨_I'm dirty, mean and mighty unclean, I'm a wanted man, Public enemy number one, Understand, So lock up your daughter, Lock up your wife, Lock up your backdoor, And run for your life, The man is back in town…¨_

Despite suffering from the post-drinking blues, he felt pretty good. Mr. Burgundy, his boss, liked Alan a lot and gave him a few liberties since he was one of the most hard-working drivers in the station. The engine roared and he was on his way to work. On the way he noticed that there was a bit more traffic than usually, which was a bit odd… maybe he wasn't the only one late from work. He also noted that there were quite a few emergency vehicles on the move. He minded his own business and kept on driving. He had a faint memory of TV saying something about an emergency but he quickly forgot it since he noticed a pedestrian running on the road.

He noticed him too late.

Alan hit him, sending him flying and finally hitting the ground. He pressed the brakes and looked at the unmoving figure. He put on reverse and quickly dialled 911 on his cell phone. He couldn't get through since all the lines were reserved. Just my luck, he thought. He rolled his window down…

¨Hey man, you alright? ¨ He asked from the man. The man didn't answer. Instead, it jumped up and screamed and quickly ran towards Alan. Alan barely had the time to close the window, one hit from the figure fractured it. Alan immediately put pedal to the metal and before he noticed, the man was just a dot in the horizon. Alan cursed his luck, of all the people he could have bumped, he chose a hobo on speed. He kept on driving and dodged the traffic until he noticed something a bit stranger.

There had been a mass car-accident, at least four cars out of which two were burning. There was an ambulance with its doors open and a cop car. The only thing missing were the people. He slowed down and noticed something that froze his blood. He saw two paramedics and a civilian mauling a police officer. They were like wild-animals feasting on their prey, minding their own business. Alan stared in horror as he realized that two of the possible people who had been there during the accident were chased off by three more figures. Alan pissed on the face of speed-limits and drove off quickly. What the hell was going on? He felt shivers go up his spine; he felt nauseous and was in a bit of a shock. He couldn't stop thinking about the image he witnessed a while ago. Something was wrong in an extremely fucked up way.

He kept driving; his work place wouldn't be far away anymore. Just past the wal-mart and then a quick turn to left and he could see the station. More people were running around, these ones looking a bit more human than the ones he had seen earlier. All of them in a panic like state, running inside the wal-mart. He heard gunshots and once again, accelerated. He needed to get away.

He had entered the yard of the station and noticed that there were few cars also parked. That meant that there were some people inside. Still, there were a lot of people missing. He wasn't the only one late. He parked next to a buick, locked the doors and quickly jogged towards the staff entrance on the back of the station. He picked up a steel-pipe off the ground… Just in case. He heard a crash from inside the station. It came from the direction of main entrance. He didn't have much time to think about it, since he heard something else. Steps. Someone running. When he turned around the corner he was stopped by…

¨Oh fuck Alan, you scared the shit outta me!¨ Said Gordon Embury, a fellow busdriver. Gordon was about 10 years younger than Alan, one of the younger ones working at the station. A handsome man with piercing blue eyes and well groomed black hair, he was one the better friends Alan had at the job.

¨Yeah, yeah. Listen, have you got any idea what the hell is going on? I witnessed a lot of fucked up shit on the way here." Alan said. He didn't feel like elaborating.

¨Shit yeah, people are going apeshit. I saw people getting shot on the way here and some good old US-of-A as kicking. I'm telling you man, I saw people eating other people. It was horrible.¨ Gordon said, putting emphasis on the word eating. He was going to continue but then his eyes wided and he yelled;

¨Shit, watch out!¨

Alan turned and noticed a man running towards him. A man with gray skin wearing a heavily stained t-shirt reading ¨I heart NY¨ and blue shorts. Saliva was dripping from it's jaw. Alan took a swing at the figure and hit it straight in the forehead. The man fell to the ground, twitching there for a while. Alan and Gordon stood there for a while, gasping for air.

¨I think we should go inside.¨ Alan said. Gordon nodded. They entered the station and were standing now in a hallway which led in four places. To the locker room, upstairs to Mr. Burgundy's office, the lobby and the cafeteria. The hallway was clean and showed no signs of violence except for Mr Burgundy's door. The window on it was shattered. Alan quickly locked the backdoor, just to be sure.

Moaning.

The sound came from the locker room. There weren't any lights on in the locker room; it was dark inside. Alan motioned Gordon to arm himself, who took the fire extinguisher off the wall. Slowly, Alan opened the door and switched the lights on. Room was empty except for the huge pile of driver outfits on the corner. Alan motioned towards unmoving pair of legs under the outfits. A figure was lying under the outfits and the two armed men approached it. Alan reached forward and moved some of the clothes and noticed that it was Peter Bishop, another bus driver. He was a drinker, so every time he got drunk his wife would send him here to get some sleep. Peter was an old man, few years to retiring. His bald head was sweating from the heat the outfits provided. His heavy-built body breathed steadily. He seemed ok.

¨Wake up¨ Gordon said and kicked the man in the behind.

Man let out a big burp and opened his eyes.

¨Ahh…What do you want? Time to work already?¨ Peter asked. His breath reeked of cheap liquor.

¨What the hell are you doing here? Seen other guys from the work? Tim? Danny?¨ Alan asked

Peter stood up and straightened his back.

¨Nope. Haven't seen anyone. I came here sometime during the night since wife didn't let me in. I think someone broke in sometime ago but I didn't care to give two flying fucks about it. I heard a glass breaking few minutes ago and a loud bang upstairs" Peter said.

Gordon and Alan exchanged looks. Things didn't look too good.

¨Let's head up to Burgundy's office. If I remember right Burgundy owned this old revolver, we could have use for it¨ Alan said.

¨Yeah, let's just hope that he had some ammunition too¨ Gordon replied.

Peter stood up and stretched himself, as Alan and Gordon had already entered the hallway.

¨Hey, wait up! ¨ Peter shouted and followed the two men. He wasn't quite sure what had happened, but he knew that being alone wouldn't be the best solution.

They were now standing in front of the door to upstairs. Peter had taken the broom in the locker room as his weapon, so he wouldn't be completely defenceless against any unwanted people. Alan opened the door. The doorknob was slippery. He looked at his palm and looked at the red goo. It was blood. Alan quickly cleaned his hands on his pants. Disgusting.

There were quite old wooden stairs leading upstairs. Unlike in the locker room, the lights were on. Alan took the lead as they slowly walked the stairs. A creaking sound came after every step. It was silent, only the creaking could be heard. Alan felt like the stairs were going to continue forever.

They made it upstairs. The door to the boss' office was open. They creeped closer. He peeked inside and felt something rise up in his throat. There was a body lying on its belly on the floor, with a hole on the back of its head. The corpse resembled a guy at their worked who went by the name Bennings but he wasn't sure or willing to check. But then, he heard a weak sound coming from behind Mr Burgundy's desk, a sound of someone breathing heavily. Slowly, the three men walked beside the desk and saw…

Mr Burgundy, sitting on the floor with a revolver in his one hand and one hand pressing a piece of cloth to a wound in his shoulder. From the signs of is, it looked like he was bitten.

¨Don't come any closer! ¨ Mr. Burgundy shouted, pointing the single action army at them.

¨Don't shoot! We aren't one of those things!¨ Gordon said as he raised his hands. He held the fire extinguisher high in the air, making him look silly.

Mr Burgundy was a fairly old man, his almost bald head was well waxed and he was wearing a suit, like always. Everyone wondered why would a owner of a filthy bus station wear a suit at the job. Apparently it added value or showed rank amongst the people in the station. It worked.

¨Alan! Peter! How nice of you to show up. That guy there on the floor, what's his name… Bennings chased me here after biting me in the hallway. I managed to run up here and shoot him when he ran upstairs. I think he's got rabies or something… Bastard managed to take a bite out off me. Stupid, so stupid…¨ Burgundy said.

Burgundy grinned. The old man was hurt and the wound in his shoulder kept bleeding badly.

¨Let me see that.¨ Peter said and approached Burgundy.

He raised the piece of cloth and saw Burgundy's shoulder. The shoulder had a huge chunk missing. His, beige suit had turned in to brownish colour on the shoulder from all the dried blood

"It was self-defence… I didn't want to." Burgundy sobbed. Alan put his hand on Burgundy's shoulder, the one that wasn't bitten.

¨I take your word for it. We've seen all kinds of messed up things happen during the course of the day. But now I think we should…¨ Alan didn't have the time to finish his sentence because Gordon interrupted him.

¨Come on, check this out! There's something happening outside.¨ Gordon said and pointed out of the window.

The men walked to the window.

A police car had stopped in the yard and two cops and a civilian were running towards the station. They were being chased by a group of figures up to ten. Alan opened the window and shouted;

¨Quicky! Come to the backdoor! ¨ He pointed to his right. The police saw it and ran there. He fired a shot at the horde, hitting one of them in the chest. Alan stared in awe, as the figure didn't even flinch and kept running.

¨Stay here with Burgundy ¨ Alan said and ran downstairs. Gordon and Peter didn't object.

He ran as fast as he could to the backdoor. With one quick move, the lock was open and the men inside. Few seconds later the door was being hit by the unknown assailants.

Alan looked at the two cops. One of them was a man about same age as Alan and the other one was a young woman. Man was wearing a standard issue police uniform and wore thick glasses. The man reminded him of Phil Hartman and spoke with great sense of authority. After all, these guys were only bus drivers.

¨Officer John Stack, thank you for letting us in.¨ the man said and pushed his hands forward. Alan shook it.

¨And this is deputy Vanessa Taitano.¨ pointing towards the woman

¨Thank you for letting us in.¨ Vanessa said and smiled. Her chocolate brown eyes reminded Alan of his ex-wife.

¨Come on, let's get upstairs. There's a…¨ Alan was going to say something, but the figure standing in door of the cafeteria took his attention.

The cook, an obese black man was looking at them. He looked as hideous as always… Despite the pale unseeing eyes and bleeding arm.

The cook made a run towards them. Vanessa and Alan took few steps back while Stack pointed his gun at the fat figure stumbling towards them.

BANG!

The fat figure collapsed to the ground. The bullet was a direct hit to the forehead.

Alan looked at Stack who was holding a Beretta 92F. Stack blew the smoke coming out of the barrel of the gun.

¨Upstairs, was it?¨

They were walking in the stairwell when Alan noticed the civilian with them.

¨And who might you be?¨ Alan asked

The man was muscular and was wearing a black tank and blue jeans.

¨Scott Hartigan.¨ The man said. A man of few words, Alan thought.

"We're transferring him to an other prison. We've got no idea what he did, only that it's something serious. He might be a serial killer for all we know…" Stack said.

Clock was now 10.52Am. It was a living hell outside. Burning houses, people attacking each other, death… The minor chaos Alan had witnessed had taken a turn for the worse. There was a radio on Burgundy's desk and they were now listening to the emergency broadcast.

¨… Lock your doors, seal the windows, and wait for the National Guard to pick you up. It's only a matter of time until we have the situation under control. As we stated few minutes ago, do not, I repeat, do NOT make contact with the unknown attackers. This is a nation-wide event which started this very morning and we've had reports of cannibalistic behaviour by the people all around the nation. We're now going live to the streets, where Mark Simmons gives us a report. Mark, what's the situation there? ¨ The news broadcaster asked.

After a brief moment of static, a voice could be heard.

¨Maxwell, I'm standing next to a police department taking siege! The previous reports are true; the people are in fact eating other people. It is just insane, I, I just cannot explain. It's just, it's just…The officials have no idea what could have caused this. There's a lot of speculation going on whether these people are alive or dead. But one undeniable fact is that… ¨ the panicked voice of award winning street-reporter Mark Simmons turned in to horrible screams and gnarling sounds.

¨Mark? Can you hear me? ¨ the newscaster spoke

The newscaster put his finger to his ear-piece. ¨I'm sorry but we've lost contact with Mark. More information will follow shortly."

¨Oh god…¨ Gordon said. They all were shocked about the news. Not one of them stood without leaning to something.

Burgundy coughed. The old man was now in extremely bad condition. His skin had turned to yellowish colour and the bite mark on his shoulders smelled rotten. He was sweating badly.

¨Burgundy, drink this. ¨ Peter said and gave him a glass of water. Burgundy took it.

¨I have a… first name too you know…¨ Burgundy said in a weak tone.

¨What's that? ¨ Peter said, he couldn't hear what the old man was saying.

The glass of water dropped to the floor, and Peter put his finger on burgundy's temple. Burgundy's unseeing eyes were locked to the ceiling.

¨He's gone. ¨ Peter said.

Alan took the revolver and looked it in his hands. It felt weird to be carrying something that could so easily take someone's life.

¨We shouldn't stay here. We should…¨ Alan said

¨Burgundy's alive. ¨ Peter said. Alan turned his head and was horrified.

Burgundy had turned in to something else. He was screaming and grabbed Peter by the shoulders but Alan was faster.

BANG! He had shot Burgundy straight in the forehead, his eyes blinking once before his body went limb.

¨What in the name of… ¨ Stack said. He didn't expect anything to happen.

¨But he was dead! I didn't find his pulse! I swear… he was dead! ¨ Peter rambled.

¨He was bitten… and he turned. It cannot be a coincidence. ¨ Stack said Alan.

¨I don't know, there has been so much happening today…¨ Alan replied in a serious tone.

Stack and Gordon covered Burgundy's face. The very sight of it made them sick. Alan wasn't done talking;

¨But one thing I know for certain. We have to get out of here. We have to make a run for it. ¨ He said

¨Where? ¨ Vanessa asked

¨I don't know, somewhere safe, how's that? ¨ He said. The sarcasm overflowing from his voice.

Peter changed the frequency of the radio to a local station. Stack made a gesture that suggested he was going to change the frequency back.

¨… your way towards Fort Lawrence. It's the best shot of you guys out there surviving. We're going off the air. This is Shawn Bixby saying have a good day, I'm off to get saved¨

It felt like a divine sign.

That's it! We have to go there! ¨ Alan quickly shouted

¨How? ¨ Vanessa asked

Alan looked at Vanessa. They were on a bus station, naturally they would take a bus. Woman should start making judgements of her own instead of muttering questions…

¨We'll take a bus.¨ Alan said.

The plan sounded good to everyone, not one objected. They should have thought of going to Fort Lawrence immediately since it was the nearest military base to them. Naturally, they had other things on their minds.

¨Hell yeah, let's do it! ¨ Gordon said. He was 100 percent confident about the plan. He slapped his hands together.

¨Alright, grab the revolver ammunition and let's go to the garage. Straight through the cafeteria¨ Alan said, leading the pack of survivors.

They quickly ran down and through the cafeteria. Good for them that it was empty. It was neat inside, if you didn't notice the slight blood drops on the ground.

Alan opened the double doors and was now standing in the garage. There were seven busses. Alan had only one bus in mind.

Alan looked around. He walked near a big bus, with a small nametag on door handle ¨Ursula¨. It was a standard issue bus but somehow it felt a bit more secure and bigger than the other busses. Their steps echoed in the empty garage.

The group entered the bus, as Alan tried to start the vehicle, which was the tricky part.

¨You sure that this piece of shit will move? ¨ Scott said his first words out loud.

Alan looked at him. The disrespect shown towards his bus made him a bit angry.

¨Nah man, I'm just starting it for the kicks, we've got a tank waiting outside if you feel like taking that instead. ¨ He said.

Scott sat down, quiet. Finally, the bus showed that it indeed was a fine piece of public transport.

¨Gordon, go open the garage door, will you? ¨ Alan asked Gordon

Gordon nodded and jumped out of the bus. He ran to the big garage door and pressed the big green button on the wall next to the door.

He waved to Alan, but as he turned around, his blood nearly froze. Nearly a dozen figures were waiting there, now running towards Gordon.

¨Gordon! ¨ Alan shouted. The young man ran towards the bus and outran the figures with relative ease. Everyone except for Scott cheered. Alan accelerated through the figures and took a quick right after the yard. They felt a bit more confident about their chances. Alan smiled as he steered the bus through all the horror that waited them outside the bus.

¨Buckle up, next stop, fort Lawrence. ¨ He said in the microphone and his voice could be heard from the speakers.

The bus number 13 was on its way to salvation

**A/N: ****Right, I tried the best I could to improve the story. Forgive me if there are error and contradictions in the next chapters. I'm working on them as we speak and they should be re-uploaded shortly. As a sidenote, I haven't written anything in a long time and to be honest, it feels pretty damn good. If you're a new reader, please give this story a shot. Reviews are highly appreciated.**


	2. Pit stop

**Bus Number 13**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Dawn of the dead, however, the characters and their story belongs to the author, me. **

**Chapter 2: Pit stop**

They had been driving for few hours now; the dawn was slowly turning to day and the suburbs had turned in to more countryside. Gone were the nice looking duplexes, half-luxurious homes with pools and what not. Occasionally they would see a speeding car and a farm here and there but that's about it. It seemed pretty peaceful… Perhaps the army has made itself useful for a change? They had comfort in knowing that if you get bitten, you're a goner. Not much of a thought warmer but it still gave a change to possibly avoid any bitten people. They were as hazardous as the ones who had already perished.

Gordon was sitting on the bench right behind Alan; he was looking out of the window, thinking about his family and what happened to them. He had a weird feeling that his family was still alive. Yeah, that's right. They could have made it to somewhere safe. The National Guard might have secured the area just now. This would be over soon, only few hours, maybe days and he could return home, watching reruns of famous football matches on TV while his mother cooked. The thought made him smile. Goddamn Cleveland Browns for sucking.

He was brought to the real word when Alan yelled at him; ¨Gordon! We have a situation! ¨

¨Yeah, what's wrong? ¨ Gordon asked and adjusted his position on the seat.

Alan pointed at the gas meter. The gas tank was almost empty, and the nearest gas station could be miles away. He had no idea where to get more gas. Not to mention that gas stations could turn to death traps. Re-fueling a bus wasn't a quick job to do.

¨Fuck!¨ Alan said and punched the steering wheel. Think Alan, think!

Vanessa had noticed that there was a problem. She made her way towards the driver's seat. Gordon looked at her gracious figure while it passed him.

¨What's wrong? Don't bullshit me? ¨ She said. Alan was surprised by the cut-no-crap attitude Vanessa pulled.

¨We are running out of gas and we've got no idea where we could get more. We could try some of the houses we come across, but it would be pure gambling. ¨ Alan explained. He tried driving in a more steady way to preserve gas

¨Oh my god ¨ Vanessa said and pointed forwards.

Not far, maybe 100 meters away, there was a young girl standing on a bus stop, waving the bus to stop. Was it safe? What if there were those crazed out figures in the bushes just waiting for an opportunity? Or what if the girl was bitten and she would turn in to one of those things? But on the other hand, she would be completely defenceless if someone would attack her… The Samarian inside Alan decided to take the risk. He put on a lower gear and pulled next to the girl.

The bus stopped.

WOOSH! The door of the bus opened and the little girl stepped in. Alan guessed she was about eight to ten years old. She was wearing yellow rubber boots and a little jean jacket. Her blue eyes stared at Alan and her arm, holding a quarter straightened towards Alan.

¨Please sir, It's all I have.¨ The little girl said.

Alan looked at the others and said;

¨Hop in kid.¨

The little girl sat on one of the benches behind Alan. The girl seemed to be in a trance like state. She sat down and quietly stared out of the window. Alan switched the gear and kept driving. His eyes locked with Gordon's and he motioned her to come closer. Gordon took his time to stand up and walked next to Alan.

¨Try asking her where's the nearest gas station… Check for blood. I'm sorry, but I'm tossing her out if she's bitten.¨ Alan said to Gordon. He understood.

Gordon sat next to the girl and looked at her for a while. He then noticed that there was blood on the sleeve of the jacket. He pressed the stain, but it was dry. He tried to act calm and nice, yet you could heard from his voice that he was a bit scared. Not for himself, but for the little hitchhiker.

¨What happened to your jacket? Are you hurt?¨ Gordon asked. He was hoping for a no.

The girl was quiet for a moment, almost like considering what to answer.

¨Mommy said never talk to strangers¨ She said

Gordon smiled and stood up. He walked past Vanessa, who was now polishing her gun. She holstered the weapon and turned to Gordon.

¨Yes, what is it? ¨

¨Try asking that girl where is the nearest gas station…" Gordon replied. He was a bit ashamed how his attempt at questioning the girl turned out.

Vanessa made her way to the girl. She sat in the bench in front of her. The bus drove over a few bumps, making her attempt at looking calm and collected a bit less convincing.

"Do you like horses? I sure do, I used to have a pony when I was a little girl living in Utah… " She said, but the girl interrupted her. Her eyes lighted up.

"Really? I always wanted a pony but mommy never let me have one… I'm allergic or something." Girl said in a sad tone.

"Now that's sad… But I have to agree with your mother. Ponies are not that easy to take care off. By the way, where is your mother? You live around here?"

Girl pointed out of the window, towards a rather big farm. That must have been where the girl lived. Chances that there would be gas were pretty good… It was a huge farm.

"Is that your home?" Vanessa asked

The girl looked in the eyes of Vanessa and nodded. Vanessa turned to see if there were any signs of the living, but she saw something else on the yard of the house, in front of the big red barn.

There was a gas pump!

"Alan! I know where we can get ourselves some gas!" She yelled at the direction of the driver's seat. Alan turned around and saw Vanessa pointing out of the window. Alan looked to the left, there was a gas pump indeed! He smiled at Vanessa and turned left from the next intersection, taking them to the yard. He drove in front of the gas pump and noticed a quite large white house which had to be where the family had lived. Alan opened the door of the bus and stepped out. The fresh air of the countryside made him feel a little better. Everyone else on the bus hustled forward to listen to Alan.

"Alright, Vanessa and Gordon, go check the house while me and Stack are going to fill up the tank. Scott and Peter, guard the bus. If you see something non-human running somewhere, just honk. In that case everyone haul your asses back and we're leaving. Simple as that. We're not taking any chances." Alan quickly told them what to do and made his way towards the gas pump. Stack followed him, moving around like a bald Harry Callahan with his constant circling around with the handgun. Alan took the pump and injected it to a small hole on the side of the bus. Gallon meter started counting up numbers. He grinned.

Vanessa and Gordon now stood on the porch of the house. At first glance, everything was alright… But it was then when they noticed the door. It was covered in blood. They stepped in and creeped around like ninjas around the lobby. From the lobby they made their way towards the living room. The living room itself was in a horrible condition. The TV was broken; pieces of paper and furniture were all over the ground… nothing was where it should be. It was silent except for the weird sound coming out of the room to their left. It was the kitchen, they could tell because of the image that was on the door. A fork and a knife. The blood trail lead to the door. Gordon looked at Vanessa, motioning that he would enter.

He put his hand on the door knob and slowly opened the door. He saw a man on the dining table, one arm missing, his face still locked in a horrible shouting expression with glassed eyes staring towards the ceiling and a woman in her early 40's pulling out bloody intestines from the stomach. Under the table was a boy, approximately twelve years old, munching on a hand. Vanessa's boot hit the side of the door and the two deceased figures turned to the door in a split-second. The woman laid out a screech and started running towards them. Gordon quickly smacked the door shut and turned to Vanessa.

"We better not tell the girl about this."

He heard banging on the door, sound coming from the lower part of the door. Apparently the kid was trying to come through the door, with bad success. Gordon and Vanessa immediately thought of the same thing.

"How come the woman isn't doing that?" Vanessa formed their thoughts to words.

The answer was standing couple of meters away from them. The stood there, hissing. Her white sweater was partly covered in blood and she had one cheek missing. She was beautiful. At least in her previous life. The woman sprinted towards them but Gordon smacked a deadly blow with his lead pipe. Hitting the woman in the temple, her head made an almost 90 degree turn to the left. The woman fell and started twitching. It didn't take long for it to stop. The spinal cord was badly damaged from the hit.

"Nice going" Vanessa said In a slight shock.

Gordon just looked at the now permanently dead corpse of the woman. But now they had more trouble. Apparently the father of the family had turned, because they heard a man shout in the kitchen. There must had been an other door out of the kitchen since the woman had gotten out. But too late, the father and the son were already in the living room. The two figures noticed Vanessa and Gordon and started running in their direction. Gordon took a defying battle stance with his pitiful leadpipe while Vanessa started shooting at the man, hitting him few times in the chest before hitting a bullseye. The bullet went straight through the eye, bloody pulp coming out of the occiput. It crashed through the remains of a table. However, the boy kept running towards them and managed to take a good grip out of Vanessa's leg. Vanessa was terrified.

"Get it off! " Vanessa shouted. She didn't feel like shooting since she could have shot her own leg in the process. Gordon raised the lead pipe and smacked the boy few times in the head with the pipe. The boy let his grip loose, his skull shattered.

Gordon then made his way towards the kitchen. He remembered seeing something important in the kitchen. He had indeed, on the ground next to the table where the man had been laying was a pump action shotgun, with a whole box of ammunition next to it. It seemed that the father was reloading his gun while the rest of his family members attacked him. Unlucky man. Whether it was getting eaten or shooting his family, Gordon felt bad for him.

"Should we check upstairs? if The girl has any siblings alive… "Vanessa asked from Gordon

Gordon crouched next to the now permanently dead woman and ripped her necklace around the ghoul's throat. It was one of those necklaces which could be opened. Inside it were two pictures. One of a boy and one of a girl. Gordon knew the boy lay dead next to him and that the girl was quite possibly the only survivor of the family.

"No. Everyone else is dead."

Outside, Alan and Stack had filled ¾ of the tank. They had heard the struggle inside and they assumed that there had been figures inside the house. They faith in Vanessa and Gordon. They better be alright. They couldn't risk Alan getting attacked so Stack had to stay outside. Everything was peaceful outside though. The only sound they heard was the gallon meter racking up numbers. If only they had given value to other things, they had heard the birds sing and wind sweeping down the grassy fields. Unfortunately they weren't ready to appreciate these little miracles yet.

"This takes too much time. For Pete's sake, we don't know how many of them could be lurking around here" Alan said, he was nervous of the all the silence surrounding them. In reality, it wasn't silent. He noticed Vanessa and Gordon running out of the house. Gordon motioned Alan by nodding that the house was secure for now. Alan noticed the bloody handmarks on Vanessa's clothes.

"Was she bitten?" Alan asked

"No, but it was a close one though…Listen, about the girl. Her whole family is dead; we found a little boy and her mother and father inside. They had already changed…we had to kill them." Gordon said. Alan understood, but he knew that the little girl should not know that her family members are gone. If this would happen to him, he would have been crushed by the loss. The truth could wait for a while. He cleared his throat.

"Come on, let's check the barn. Vanessa, stay here with Gordon" Alan said. He had no particular reasons to investigate the barn house, but he felt that it should be checked.

Alan and Stack approached the big double doors of the barn. They pulled the doors open, hinges made a high pitched sound. It was rather dark in the barn, the only light came from the three small windows on the eastern wall. It was quiet. It was disturbingly quiet, it was one of those moment that in the movies when someone not relevant to the script was going to die. The barn was nearly empty; there was a tractor and a big pile of garbage for some odd reason.

"Ah shit!" Stack said as he had tripped in something.

While on the ground, he turned and realized that he had tripped on a human leg. Unfortunately, that was the only thing. Where was the corpse? Out of instinct he kicked the leg away quickly. The ants had already launched their own D-Day on the limp.

"Alan!" Stack quickly whispered

Alan turned to Stack and kneeled beside him.

"You hurt? Come on now, that couldn't have hurt." He said, trying to fetch a few laughs. He failed.

"No, it's not that. I think we might have someone lurking around here." Stack whispered quickly.

Alan felt something sting his nostrils. The stench was horrible. Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder! He turned around and saw… An old man. The man looked fresh, he had rather clean clothes and there were no hanging intestines or stuff like that. The old man was dead alright, Most of its neck was torn away, showing fragments of bone and dried blood. The old man's weight was enough to make Alan collapse on the ground. He struggled for his life, the old man had much greater power than it seemed. The creature had Alan's head pinned down, jaws closing in for a final bite. Alan closed his eyes, and wished for a quick death. He just would have wanted to see his daughters one more time. "Come on Alan, don't make such a coward" He could have heard his father say in his mind. That was the thing that made Alan realize that it wasn't his time to go. No, not yet. Alan quickly rolled and gave the zombie a headbutt. He reached for his revolver and BANG! The old man was dead, as it let loose of Alan. This whole event took maybe 10 seconds.

Alan stood up and looked at Stack.

"Feel free to step in any fucking time! The next time I see you chickening out I'm going to pistol whip your head all the way to Nevada." Alan nearly shouted at Stack. He was frustrated for the fact that he could have died. Everyone else would have too though.

"Why? You seemed to manage well" Stack said and smiled at him.

Alan laughed. Stack was such a comedian…

They walked out of the barn. Vanessa and Stack weren't filling up the tank anymore. They were ready to go. Gordon walked to Alan.

"Remember, her family wasn't here"

Alan understood and nodded at Gordon as a sign of an agreement.

WOOSH! The door of the bus opened and Alan sat on the driver's seat. He turned the keys in the ignition switch and the engine roared. To be honest, it wasn't a roar, more like a little snarling. But in his mind Alan pictured a huge animal yet to be named by science roaring at the lesser life forms.

Gordon sat next to Vanessa.

"What did you say to the girl?"

"I said that her family was gone, that they were probably at Fort Lawrence. She seemed to believe the story…" Vanessa said.

Alan noticed a single tear roll down on Vanessa's cheek. He gently wiped it away with his thumb.

"What's wrong?" Gordon asked. It was a quite stupid question, in world where dead people are coming back to life everything was wrong.

"I just realized that my own parents could be dead by now… My fiancé could be dead, my sister could be dead… God, I hope that they are safe." Vanessa said and bursted into tears. Alan noticed it but decided not to say anything. Gordon was there for her at the moment.

"Please don't cry…" Gordon tried to relax the young woman. He thought that it would be smart to make her think about other things…

"So how long have you been a cop?" Gordon asked

Vanessa wiped her eyes

"Two months ago I passed the academy. After that, I was working in New York and when I was patrolling with my partner, we noticed a young man mugging another man, so we decided to step in and help the man. The young man quickly ran away, and I yelled him to stop. Well, he didn't and I pulled out my gun. I shot him… A lethal shot. I got transferred here and now I'm working with Stack." She said.

Gordon didn't want to ask too much, so Vanessa wouldn't feel like he was being interrogated or anything like that. He noticed Scott sitting on the bench at the back of the bus. The man looked out of the window and seemed to be thinking something real hard.

"You ok?" Gordon asked

"Yeah… Just little shocked of the experience." Scott said. Gordon left the man alone, the worst thing that could happen besides ending up dead, was panicking in situations like this. On the other hand the little girl had been cheered up by the news that her family would be waiting for her at Fort Pastor. She was now playing cards with Stack. The girl must have had a pack of them with her. She seemed quite happy, as she kept winning Stack once again. Stack acted like he would have been so sad about his loss. He winked at Gordon.

Peter approached Alan.

"Listen… that was some nice stuff you made happen back at the farm." He complimented Alan and tapped his shoulder. Alan smiled.

They kept on going and after twenty minutes of driving, Alan noticed Smoke coming behind that small hill. It was normal that there were houses burning, as they had seen plenty of them. The only thing that wasn't normal was the automatic gunfire they heard. Alan accelerated and hoped that everything was ok there. What a wishful thought.

"Ready everything up! There is a change we are picking new passengers aboard!" Alan shouted behind him. Even though busses are slow, the bus seemed to accelerate fast enough. Alan hoped that they would arrive there before it was too late…

**A/N: ****Chapter rewritten, read and review please! There might be few errors here and there but meh… enjoy!**


	3. Stars and Stripes

**Bus Number 13**

**Chapter 3: Stars and Stripes**

A/N: The beginning of the chapter is a POV of a soldier who is fighting at the "source of the smoke"¨. 

"Oh my god, they are everywhere!"

Private Cillian Holden kept firing upon the figures, keeping a close eye on his ammunition and his friends. He had lost many today for those walking corpses. This outpost was a deadly place to be. More civilians kept coming there; some of them injured and after few hours there were always figures in the camp. The hell had started last night, when one of the injured people managed to bite Doctor Hackman and few other patients. Well, one makes two, two makes four and so on. The infection had spreaded fast from tent to tent, until sergeant Hill assembled the frightened men and ordered them to pick their weapons and fight back. They had been doing so, but now things were going seriously wrong. Their ammunition was dangerously low, and every wave of the undead managed to take at least one man with them. Not necessarily killing them instantly, but they had learned that if you were bitten, you were already dead. There's nothing worse than putting a bullet in your best friend's head. The town of Bulwirk must have been seriously hit by the figures since there were so many dead people.

Cillian Holden was an average young man who had little resemblance to Elijah Wood. Well, that's what they kept telling him. He had an army cut and blue eyes. His once clean uniform was now battle worn, it was muddy and bloody from the busy day of fighting. Originally, Cillian was a proud canadian, from Toronto to be precise. He had a scholarship to an university in Cleveland, but unfortunately he was caught smoking Marijuana in there. He was kicked out, and while waiting for a bus he noticed a sign "join the army". He signed up and he has been working in the army for several years now. In two weeks he would have turned 24. He was planning a surprise visit to his mother, but needless to say, he had other things that needed to be taken care of.

Cillian ran between the tents, trying to dodge the attackers while helping few of the alive civilians to get on their feet. Screams and gunfire filled the air. He couldn't tell what corpses on the ground were recently deceased or permanently dead. All the blood had made him feel a little nauseous. He was now standing at the eastern side of the camp, where Sergeant Hill kept few of the soldiers on a leash. He saw some familiar soldiers fighting beside him. But still… a lot of people were missing. He pulled the trigger of his M4, but instead of a loud bang, he heard a metallic click.

"I'm out!" Cillian shouted as his clip went empty. Immediately his close friend, Private David Gautreau tossed him one his remaining clips.

"Thanks man" Cillian said to David, as he reloaded his M4 and continued fighting. David winked back

The soldier who stood next to Cillian was knocked down by a figure. A muscular man wearing only black jogging pants grapped the soldier by the forehead and smashed the head to the pavement. The head opened like a Piñata filled with bloody goo inside. Sergeant Hill pulled the trigger of his 1911, sending a 9mm bullet straight through the creature's head. Another figure was finally dead. They were down to seven soldiers including Sergeant Hill, the rest were dead, and they knew that there weren't any reinforcements coming. Almost a whole company of soldiers was lost to the dead.

"Sir, There's a bus approaching! There!" A black soldier named Sean Jefferson shouted.

Sergeant Hill turned around and saw the bus speeding down the slope. New hope filled the hearts of men, as they would know that they now had a change to survive.

"Alright, Circle around, we're making it alive! " Hill kept shouting, while he shot a zombified soldier, formerly known as Corporal Jim Carmack. A well-liked man… He deserved to stay dead.

More figures kept appearing; many of them had Bullet holes in their bodies while some were looking fairly alive. Except for the pale skin, the glassed eyes and the animalistic behaviour. Young women, old men, small children… There's no telling how many people this "plague" had already killed.

Private Dick Nielsen obviously wasn't going to be one of the surviving members of the company. A close encounter with a figure had caused him one half-eaten cheek. The young man started running away in panic, dropping his M4 and leaving the circle of the fighting men. Hill noticed the soldier running away.

"Get back here! Dick!" Hill shouted

The young man kept running and some of the figures ran after him and one of them managed to tackle him down to the ground, behind of a burning tent. They heard his screams over the gunfire. A final high-pitched scream was heard and they were down to six. The bus was close now; it had opened it's doors and a man in a police uniform shot a figure who was trying to get in. It fell to the ground and the bus drove over it.

"Don't stop, keep on going!" Hill kept rallying his troops.

The tension inside the bus was intense. They were ready to pick up the soldiers, but they also had to make sure that the figures wouldn't make it in. Alan's knuckles were almost white because he was holding the steering wheel so hard. Stack stood next to him with his Beretta, ready to help the soldiers in. Scott, Peter and Gordon were taking care of the middle door, Gordon with his shotgun while Peter had a tight grip of Mr.Burgundy's revolver. Scott was sitting on a bench and he had the lead pipe in his hands. Vanessa was covering the girl in the back; she shouldn't see any intense action to make sure that she wouldn't be traumatized for life.

"Keep it steady, keep it steady!" Stack said to Alan, who was doing the best he could. Unfortunately the bus didn't have the same kind of a control like in Alan's Mustang. He was still doing a good job though. Stack's forehead was nearly shining from the sweat, the man was nervous and Alan could notice it.

"You ok?" Alan asked. Stack turned to him.

"As fine as I can be" Stack said and smiled a little.

Alan saw how one of the men tripped but the rest of the soldiers noticed it too late. The figures were already on top of the soldier, clawing and biting the poor man. He tried to straighten his hand as a gesture for someone to help him. No one came, no one couldn't.

"Alright men, the last push!" Alan and Stack heard a man shout. They were close enough now.

Alan pressed the red button on the console next to the steering wheel. The doors opened and one of the soldiers ran in. A man in his mid 30's, who wore a regular green army uniform and a helmet which had a drawing of an angel on the side. It was well detailed but most interesting thing in the drawing was that the angel had an assault rifle in its hands. There was also a text, but Alan had more pressing matters at hand. Gunshots were heard from the middle doors, along with inhuman screeches.

The sergeant tossed one of the soldiers in and turned around. A young woman with a stomach ripped open, ran towards him, as he straightened his arm and aimed between the eyes of the once charming lady. In the midst of the chaos, the woman stopped and looked in the barrel of the small firearm.

CLICK

Woman made a sound, which sounded like an over pitched laugh and jumped at the sergeant. He tried to punch the woman down, unfortunately he missed and the woman managed to take a grip of the sergeant. She sank her teeth in his arm, blood pouring from the wound as she ripped the flesh out of the arm. Stack's accurate shot took the woman down, as sergeant hopped in. Alan could see that sergeant was in pain, as he sat down on one of the benches.

"Everyone inside?" Alan shouted

He looked back and saw two soldiers with Gordon and Peter shooting the figures. One of the figures jumped in just after Alan had pressed the button. The figure, a normal looking male ravaged around for a while. It was risky to shoot inside the bus so they had to kill it by their hands. It jumped at Peter, but before it managed to take a bite, it's dead eyes noticed a young girl in the back. Their eyes met, even though Vanessa was trying her best to cover little girl's eyes. It made a run towards Vanessa and the girl, but Scott and his lead pipe stopped it in its tracks. The lead pipe hit the creature on the right side of the face. The creature fell down, most of its face crushed. It twitched for a while, until Peter put a bullet in its brain with the revolver.

The soldier who was thrown in by the sergeant walked next to him and took a bandage out of his side pocket. The sergeant just looked forwards, not paying any attention to the soldier who was bandaging his arm. The soldier had black, rather thick eyeglasses and had a little scar just above his upper lip. The name "Wolfe" was on his nametag.

"Goddamn it!" The sergeant yelled and tossed his helmet on one of the benches.

He took a cigarette out his cigarette pack and placed it on his lips and lighted it up. His hands were shaking. A cloud of thick smoke emerged from nostrils.

"I think I should introduce myself. Sergeant Hall from the National Guard, these maggots right here are privates Wolfe, Holden, Jefferson and Baxter. "

Soldiers either nodded, waved or just laid out a groan. The morale wasn't exactly very high.

"So Sergeant, have you got any idea what causes this…this… thing" Alan asked behind the steering wheel. The road was clear…for now.

Wolfe had bandaged Sergeant's arm now, Hall corrected his position on the bench. He blew out another cloud of cancer. He seemed to be thinking what to say.

"I haven't got a slightest idea of what's going on. All I know is, the people are dead and running. Which technically is impossible… We had a doctor at the base camp who said that there was something strange in the blood. It was something that didn't belong there. Hell, I'm not a doctor or a surgeon, so it's hard for me to say what causes this. But I also happen to know that…"

He swallowed hard.

"…Once you get bitten, you're a goner."

There was complete silence in the bus. Sergeant took out his 1911 and said;

"Don't you worry about me, when the time comes I'll handle myself."

Alan looked at the people inside the bus. Gordon and Peter were now whispering to each other, while Stack stared out of the window. The soldiers had formed their own little group and Vanessa held the girl in her arms. Goddamn it…

"Is Fort Lawrence far away from here?" Gordon asked from one of the soldiers. The one they called Holden answered;

"An hour away. Depends on how fast are we going."

Gordon nodded and went back to his seat. He noticed that the soldier was teary, so it wasn't the best moment to have a little chitchat

But Alan on the other hand, felt like he had to know more about the situation.

"Do you soldiers have the situation in control? At other camps and bases that is?"

"The high command doesn't tell about losses to the soldiers. But I happened to be in good terms with our commander before he got eaten. And no, we don't have the situation in control. We had constant reports about camps that were knocked out. Considering that this is the first day we've been fighting these things, I say we are fighting a losing battle. The goddamn things just keep on multiplying and there's nothing else we can do but slow it down a little. "

"What do you mean?" The soldier with the detailed helmet, Baxter asked.

"I mean that if we don't get the situation in control soon, we are dead. Fort Lawrence is losing people every hour, if it's believing to the reports. They're not taking wounded people inside the fortress anymore."

"That's wrong!" Vanessa shouted from behind the bus.

Sergeant laughed

"How come lady? Mark my words, once you are bitten, you are a ticking bomb. Why would they risk the lives of the survivors inside the fortress to give comfort to a bitten civilian for few hours or days? I've seen a lot of my soldiers being bitten today. All of them came back, unless they or me put a bullet in their heads. "

"You're sick! You have no right to do that!" Vanessa shouted. She was getting teary.

"I think I'm reasonable, not sick." Sergeant controlled his nerves.

"I happen to think that…" Vanessa said, only to be halted by Sergeant.

"I didn't ask for your opinion lady!" Sergeant yelled and pointed his 1911 at Vanessa.

Gordon stood up and reloaded the shotgun.

"Now, there's no reason for that Sergeant Hall" Gordon said in a calm tune.

Sergeant indeed holstered in firearm. But he knew that he would need it soon, because Fort Lawrence wasn't far away.

The farther they drove, the more destruction they witnessed. Crashed cars, burning houses, bodies … not a single living person on sight. This made them think about sergeant's words. Maybe he was right after all. They would be soon in Fort Lawrence, but could the fortress keep them safe? Only time will tell.

**A:N\ Sorry for the long wait, I have been busy with life etc. etc.**


	4. Emotions

**Disclaimer: I do not own Dawn of the dead. **

**Bus Number 13 Chapter 4: Emotions  
**

"Goddamn it burns", Sergeant Hall said. His arm had gone pretty bad in few hours, the bandage was covered in thick dark blood and the skin around the wound was greyish. He was sweating like a pig and it seemed that he had a fever. The smell of his vomit on the floor was stinging Alan's nostrils. Sergeant also had problems to stand up…

He was turning and everyone knew it.

"For sure man, the first thing we're going to do when we get to the fort, we will arm ourselves to the teeth and avenge David. Take it easy Cillian" Sean Jefferson, Private first class said to Cillian Holden, a fellow soldier and a survivor. Jefferson, being the 2nd child of the family with 7 children, had built good people skills. Hard knock life.

Cillian sighed heavily

"Yeah, I know that there was nothing that I could do… I didn't even notice him falling. No one even tried to help him. " He said

"Don't take it so hard on yourself Cillian. There was absolutely nothing you could have done. I believe that now he's in the hands of… Leonid Wolfe, a christian was interrupted by Cillian.

"In the hands of our god? You talk about god when something like this happens? So it was his destiny to get his guts eaten and coming back as a mindless cannibal? I wouldn't call it a plan, more like a judgement. How do you think god is going to judge us, you? I'm telling you, I'm not planning to get eaten. I don't want to end up roaming these roads as a mindless ghoul and hunt those who I once swore to protect. I just…." Cillian said..

Vanessa was looking at the young soldier. She couldn't imagine what he had already experienced. Such a young man… and cute if she could add. But she had more important things at hand than some silly crushes. She liked Gordon too, and she believed that Gordon had feelings for her too. She was an attractive woman and she knew it herself. Her parents always told her "Vanessa, you have the looks, send the photos!" But instead of becoming a catwalk beauty, she joined the police academy. She did well, but she didn't make it through the "Interview and Interrogation Methods" course. Sometimes situations require desperate measures… Only she and the constable knew about the night they spend together, eventually letting her pass.

Peter was sitting on one of the benches and watching a picture of his wife and his son. He was sure that they had already been eaten… He felt hopeless and tired. He knew that it was the worst thing that could happen; he felt an urge to drink. A glass of Jack & Daniels really would cheer him up. No, not a glass… The whole bottle would maybe do the job. At least it would take the pain away for a while…

"Peter, you okay?" Gordon asked. He had seen the man hold the picture and stare it in a trance. Gordon knew that Peter wasn't okay, but Peter needed someone to talk to. If the pressures would keep on stacking up, there's no idea what he could do next.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine… Just wondered if Martha and Peter Jr. are okay.. Not that I wouldn't know that they have been eaten by those fucking figures!" He yelled and threw the picture away..

"Listen, There's still a possibility that they are alive. There are lots of National Guard outposts, they most likely have made to one of them." Gordon tried to calm the man down.

"Just like the earlier outpost where we picked these guys up? Fuck you man!" Peter said and punched Gordon in the face. The jab packed enough power to make him fall down from the seat. Peter jumped on top of the man and kept punching him. He yelled words that didn't make any sense, saliva dripping on Gordon's face. Peter probably would have continued beating the young man up unless Cillian wouldn't have had interrupted him. He took a sleeper hold on Peter. Cillian fell on his back so he could have a better grip on him. It didn't take too long before Peter stopped struggling and passed out.

"Come on guys, help me put him on the bench" Cillian said to Wolfe and Jefferson and together they lifted him up on a bench. Wolfe took his belt off and tied Peter's hands with it. Gordon nodded to Cillian as a sign of a job well done.

His lower lip was bleeding. Vanessa came to him and gave him a piece of linen to cover the wound.

"Thanks" He said to Vanessa. Vanessa smiled back and went back to the little girl, who was

sleeping now.

Angel…my little angel… I'm not letting anyone touch you. These words were looped in Scott Hartigan's head. Scott Hartigan was a convict on the loose. He had been convicted for 50 years to prison for raping and murdering two small girls. He had served for one year already, until Officer Stark and Vanessa were ordered to transfer him to a more isolated place. Scott's case was extremely controversial, Stark and Vanessa were told that they were transferring a regular convict so they'll keep focused on their task at hand. Unfortunately for them, the dead decided come back. Unfortunate for Stark and Vanessa that is…

Scott had problems since he was a child. His parents tried to understand the things Scott did, but torturing the backalley cats and wetting his bed in the age of 18 wasn't normal. His parents ordered him for a medication and he turned more normal. He didn't torture anything and stopped wetting his bed. He didn't do anything for many years, until he was 26. That's when he kidnapped two girls and killed them. When he arrived in the prison, the doctors offered him to a medication and once again, he turned normal. He even felt guilt for killing those girls.

Angel… No please god, don't make me do those things anymore, I beg you… He crossed his hands and swung front and back on his seat. He was fighting with two personalities and with every minute the dark side took a better grip out of him. The worst part was that he was running out of pills. He put his hand in his pocket and took out a white jar with few pills inside. He took one of the pills and quickly swallowed it. After a few minutes he started to feel a little better. Scott could only hope, that there would be more medicine in the fort…

"Alan, sergeant is getting worse every second. Should we… you know…" Gordon whispered in Alan's ear.

"No, I don't know. You mean like, shoot him?" He whispered back.

Sergeant was nearly unconscious. The bite wound was deep; the bench was sticky from his blood. He still held the colt in his hands, ready to finish the job if needed.

"Yeah, that's what I'm talking about. What if he turns so quick that we don't have time to act and he manages to take a bite out of someone? I think that's a too big risk to take, he's dead already…"

"Listen boy… I said that when the time was right, I'M DOING THE JOB MYSELF!" He shouted and pointed the powerful handgun at Gordon. "Hell, might just take one cocky asshole with me…. So don't tempt me." He coughed hard.

Gordon lifted his arms up as a gesture that he had stopped talking and sat down. Jesus Christ, those things are really after us… He could see many figures running after the bus like animals they were turned to. Few hours ago they had seen people fighting them, police escorting people out of their homes but now… It was silent. Few cars drove past every now and then but no more people outside besides those who were fucked up.

As for Alan… He tried to think rationally. Right now his world consisted of the wheel, the road and the survivors on his bus. He desperately tried to block his thoughts about his ex-wife and their daughter. Stay calm Alan, don't think about it. Stay calm.

"That fort better have some food, I'm fucking starving" He said, trying to pick up few laughs. He failed miserably. The bus was silent, the only noises were the occasional ghouls outside and sergeant's rasping breath.

Stack approached Alan. "Listen, if you're feeling tired, I could take the wheel for a while". Alan knew it was a friendly gesture but he also knew that stopping the bus and changing the drivers would give the ghouls enough time to gang up on the seized bus. "Thanks man, I'm fine. We're not far from the fort anyways. However, I'd like to know something…" Alan asked Stark.

Stark looked puzzled for a while. "Err, sure. What do you want to know?"

Alan looked past Stark, pointing Scott with his eyes. "Who's he? He hasn't spoken to pretty much anyone though I saw him take one ghoul down effectively. Why was he hanging with you police officers in the first place?" Stark sat down.

"Well, he is a prisoner. I'm pretty sure that he is harmless; apparently he's going into the rock for 50 years for robbing a Chinese restaurant. I think that's pretty extreme but hey, you know the law institution these days. Don't you worry about him" Stark said and gave Alan a small smile. The smile was quickly wiped of his face as the bus collided heads-on with a ghoul.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right there." Alan said and concentrated on driving again. Though he should do something about that headache, he's holding his head in his hands…

Alan sighed. Things were back to the way they were few minutes ago. It was quiet; the only things he heard were the ghouls, the engine of the bus and the rasping breathing of the Sergeant…

Except… He couldn't hear Sergeant breathing.

"GORDON CHECK UP ON SERGEANT, QUICK!" He shouted, snapping most of the people onboard back to reality. Gordon ran to Sergeant and put his finger on his throat. "Holy shit, he is dead!" Gordon yelled and took the 1911 quickly from Sergeant's hands. It seemed like the sergeant attempted to shoot himself, but he died halfway through. He was leaning to the barrel of the gun, staring in front of him with unseeing eyes. Stark ran next to Gordon and pointed his gun at the dead soldier.

"Is he… is he dead? Is he coming back?" Vanessa asked, she held Gordon firmly around his left arm.

Her question was answered with a loud screech. Sergeant's eyes locked with Gordon's and Gordon pulled the trigger without hesitation. The bullet went through sergeant's left eye socket and half of the back of his head flew against the window. The sergeant stayed dead, permanent this time. Privates were all silent, burrowing their heads to their hands. Sarge was a good leader… Cillian stood up and was silent for a while. He then took his helmet and threw it right at Sergeant. It hit him on the shoulder, bouncing of and rolling to Alan's feet.

"Fuck you man, fuck you! Fuck!" His face was red and after huffing for a while, he sat down.

Alan took the next turn to left and there it was, Fort Lawrence in all of its glory. It was a huge fenced area with guard towers, buildings and patrolling soldiers. The targeting light on the left outpost next to the entrance started pointing at the bus and it made Alan cover his eyes. There were a lot of abandoned cars in the line in front of the entrance but there was a gap for the bus to go through. Alan judged wrong, the bus took hits from the smaller vehicles but he kept driving. The weird thing was that there were no ghouls. Instead, there were a lot of the corpses around the cars and in front of the fence. Alan drove over them; it was like driving over a sea of speed bumps. A pack of soldiers ran to the entrance and pulled it aside after a minute or two of pushing. People inside the bus were all happy despite the loss of sergeant. Vanessa gave Gordon a big kiss on the cheek, Wolfe and Jefferson were jumping around in an ecstatic fashion and Stark just kept smiling. Peter had also woken up and he managed to shake his fist in the air as a gesture he was a bit happier. He gave Alan a look and nodded. Alan nodded back.

Alan stopped the bus and opened the doors. He shut of the engine and pulled the key off. That moment was magical, Alan was relieved. He loved his Ursula but all the driving was getting on his nerves. Besides, now he was going to get some sleep. He opened the doors and they all jumped out. Wolfe and Jefferson were the first ones out; they received respectful nods from the soldiers who had come outside to see who entered the fort. Stark and Hartigan were the next ones outside, quickly being followed by Vanessa, Gordon, Peter and the girl. Alan was ready to jump out but he noticed that Cillian was still sitting inside.

"You ok man? We made it!" He yelled. Cillian sat motionless.

"Yeah." Cillian replied in a monotone voice, stood up and stepped outside. Alan thought it would pass, the young soldier was guilt ridden from the loss of the sergeant and his friend David. The busdriver hopped outside and closed the door behind him. A black, chubby sergeant ran up to him.

"Were any of you bitten? Are you people alright?", the soldier asked.

"We're fine. Though we're far from alright" Alan said and followed the group inside.

First time in a long time, Alan felt relieved. Soon after they had entered, some ghouls were gathering up outside the fence. Soldiers just ignored them since it would be just waste of ammo to shoot them.

"We're sending a doctor to see you guys. We're assigning you guys few tents for you to sleep in. Sorry, it's the rules… I know you've been through a lot…" The black sergeant said.

"They'll do." Alan said and entered a tent; he was accompanied by Stark, Peter and Hartigan. Stark was laying on the bed.

"You know, back in the day when I was doing my service, I hated these beds. But now… I wouldn't leave this stone hard bunk even if I was pointed at with a gun." He said, all four of them laughed. Even Hartigan.

Hartigan stepped up to Alan and shaked his hand. "Thank you." He said, laid down on a bed and after a while, he fell asleep. Soon all of them were sleeping. It was silent.

But inside one tent, Gordon and Vanessa were embracing each other. Moonlight shined through the crack on the tent and Vanessa's perfect skin seemed to be glowing in its light. Her firm breasts were moving in unison with Gordon's chest. Kisses were exchanged, all the pressure they felt for the past two days erupted. That night there were no zombies or what not outside threatening their lives. That night there were only two of them in this fucked up little world.

**A/N: The wait has been long, enjoy! Accept my humble apology for not updating in a long long time. ****Also, sorry for the spelling mistakes, if there are some. You know the drill, R&R! We're getting to meet the "management" of fort Lawrence in the next chapter. **


	5. AUTHOR'S NOTICE

**IMPORTANT NOTICE**

After a long hiatus, I've decided to continue this story. It's currently being re-written and in all cases, improved a lot. I hope you stick with it and give it a chance. Long story short, here's for enjoyable reading moments!

~Hartman


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